


Cross-Court

by museicalitea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Team Dynamics, Volleyball, team shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6203494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museicalitea/pseuds/museicalitea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the Fukurodani Volleyball Clubs' Biannual Boys Versus Girls Showdown. Konoha has been under-performing in practices recently, and a betrayal of the highest order is uncovered.</p>
<p>This is followed, naturally, by the revelation of a truth (along with a small white lie and some truly shocking volleyball tactics).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross-Court

**Author's Note:**

  * For [booksong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksong/gifts).



> So, this is my rarepair exchange fic for booksong!! It's KaoKono, because... KaoKono, you and I both love it, and this was a good excuse to do a getting-together fic for them. And as for the prompt... it's the volleyball one, to quote: _Playing in a volleyball match together and/or meeting/flirting in the aftermath of one..._ Take the realism of this story and the events that unfold within with a grain of salt. It’s not meant to be hugely serious.
> 
> Also, a note on year groups: I’ve seen some stuff on the Wiki pages about Suzumeda being a first year, but seen nothing in the manga/no scantilations/no scans of pages with accompanying translations that I could double-check to back this up. I first started forming her character well before the anime guidebooks were released; and as such, when I write her, it’s based entirely on the assumption that she’s in the same year group as Akaashi (so, her second year in this story). So, on that note: purists, avert your eyes; everyone else, buckle in. We've got a volleyball match to play.

"Bokuto-san, remember that you can't get fixated on straights in this match. I know it's tempting but you really can't do that this time."

"Ahh, my finger's still twinging... Washio, mind helping me tape this up?"

"Guys, Suzumeda-chan has the stats from the girls' team, has anyone seen her?"

"Oya, Onaga-kun! Get in some good spikes today!"

"Hey, hey guys! What d'ya think we should get them to buy for us when we win? Like, do you think they're gonna coerce us into paying them back at some point, 'cause I know a good yakiniku place in town but it's kinda expensive..."

"Has anyone seen my strapping tape? Guys?"

"HAS ANYBODY SEEN SUZUMEDA!"

Amongst the chaos alternatively known as his teammates' changing room, Konoha Akinori adjusts his shirt—they won the toss for the uniforms, but for some reason Bokuto thought it would be a fun idea to play in their away kit, which everyone else is still fuming about—before double-checking the laces on his shoes, grabbing his water bottle, and slipping outside unnoticed in the commotion.

Out in the corridor, he heaves a sigh of relief before heading down the hall towards the second gym. He wants to get in some practice serves before they start their match warmup, because for some reason his have been going haywire in the last week or so, and he'd rather not be the reason the other team gets free points, thank you very much. His sets have also been kind of shaky the last few practices—and the aim of his cross-court spikes—

Actually, he's been almost completely off his game for the past two weeks, and he doesn't quite know why. He doesn't think it's the imminent match (probably). It's objectively nowhere near as important as something like securing a place at Nationals, which they've now done, and asides from that nothing much important has happened in the past few weeks that could trigger such a downslide in his playing.

The only thing that comes to mind that's been different, Konoha muses as he walks through the gym doors, is that Suzumeda has been oddly absent from practices. The coach doesn't seem fussed about it, but it's kind of weird seeing only Shirofuku taking notes, or throwing in the balls for spiking practice. And Suzumeda's a much better ref than Shirofuku, and Konoha misses her decisiveness.

Half the opposition is in the gym already, running spiking drills on the fourth court. The second court is mostly unoccupied, and Konoha heads towards the ball basket set up on the near side. The people on the other side of the court aren't practising, but they look intent in their discussion. One he recognises as the captain of the team, and the others are weirdly familiar and yet unfamiliar. Shrugging, he takes up position at the back of the opposite corner to them and picks up a ball. He spins it in his hands, bounces it once to get the feel for it, then readies himself and tosses it up. The toss is decent, but he doesn't hit it right and it goes straight into the net.

"Damn it," he mutters, and picks up another ball.

Again he serves, and again, and finally on the fourth one it goes over. Unfortunately—he’s really not having a good day today—he hits it diagonally, right towards the group of opposition players. One notices and dives forwards to send it up in a perfect receive, and the others pause in their discussion and turn around.

"Sorry!" he calls out, running a few steps towards them. "You alright?"

"Just, fine, Konoha-san. Just fine."

Konoha stops short. He knows that voice. He knows it very, very well. Something in his stomach clenches and sinks like a stone even as his breaths shorten because he's never seen her legs like this before, and they look really good.

And his confusion and abject horror and hopefully not his unadulterated attraction must be showing, because there, on the other side of the net, kitted out in the girls’ home uniform and adjusting the hair-tie in her ponytail:

"Sorry," Suzumeda says very unapologetically. "They wanted the extra height."

* * *

 

The Fukurodani Volleyball Clubs' Biannual Boys Versus Girls Showdown is a long-standing tradition of the school (long-standing, as Washio has noted several times, meaning its instatement and Bokuto’s entering his first year are exactly correlated). It’s a matter of pride, winning the thing, getting to boast that your team really is the best in the school no matter that both got to Nationals (it’s also a matter of funds, as the losers have to treat the winners to food).

There is anything but pride in the faces of Konoha's teammates as they enter the gym to see one of their beloved managers in enemy territory. There are indignant gasps from the second years, heartbroken "HUH???"s from the first years. Most of the regulars seem to be stunned into silence. Konoha hears a cracking sound behind him, and he's pretty sure that Shirofuku's just broken her clipboard in half.

Betrayals aside, they have to warm up and get match-ready, but that’s easier said than done. So stricken are their members that only Sarukui and Washio actually manage to keep it together enough to perform normally. Even Akaashi seems affected—it's not obvious to the average observer, but his sets are stiffer than usual and harder to spike than they should be. Akaashi and Suzumeda are in the same class and are good friends besides, so Konoha imagines the betrayal must come as a bit of a shock to him.

Konoha himself is pretty shocked. Not by the audacity of the thing—Suzumeda is nothing if not audacious—but somehow he's put together that she must have been off practising with the girls' team all this past fortnight, which means that if her absence is the thing that's been causing him to fuck up, this match _is_ the direct cause of it, and he doesn't know if her actually taking part in it is going to be a good or a bad thing for his playing ability. He sincerely hopes for the former.

When they gather ostensibly to discuss strategy before lining up, the scene is like a reprise of the changing room, except worse.

"What’s her serve like?"

"Can she spike?"

"Did she quit track because of an injury or what, I keep forgetting…"

"She did high jump, right, HOW HIGH CAN SHE JUMP?"

In the midst of this, Akaashi’s eyes are dead in the way they get when he needs to act fast to pull Bokuto out of any potential Dejected Mode. It’s his thinking and analysing face; an alarmingly serious one, to be sure, but Konoha knows that even though The Face is out the world isn’t really about to end.

Probably. You can never be sure with Akaashi’s thinking face.

Much to Konoha’s relief, Suzumeda is on the bench in the first rotation. Her serve can't be that good if it's being left till later, and he makes a note that she probably isn’t good at receives. Of course, the girls could be trying to pull a fast one on them, but that isn't really their captain’s style. She's direct and makes no secret of what she wants and how she intends to get it, and Konoha usually respects her a lot for that.

Mostly because it reminds him of Suzumeda, actually. Damn it.

Their setter, Sakai, serves first. She's in Konoha's class and has one of those serves with annoyingly accurate direction, even if it lacks power. She aims, predictably enough, for him (or rather, just in front of him), and though he gets the receive, it's pretty terrible by his standards.

"Sorry!" he calls as Sarukui hits it up over to his right. Bokuto runs up to take the spike, but even with his skill and power it's not much to work with, and the libero, Kikuchi, dives under it with ease. Worse, she pops it so high that the captain runs up and spikes it down on the second hit. This is not an ideal start to the match.

And it gets worse.

When Konoha finally rotates into the front row, it is to face a grinning Suzumeda, taking the spot of the usual second-year middle blocker. He gives her the dirtiest look he can muster, and her smile only widens.

The shortest player on the girls’ team is taller than Komi by point two of a centimetre (apparently he can _"just tell, and it’s so annoying!"_ ), and in the early stages of the set, in his bid to outplay her he keeps misplacing where he sends the ball. After the fourth ball he digs all the way over the net in a row, Bokuto actually calls a timeout of his own volition so that Komi can calm down.

The boys’ mistakes help usher the girls into an early lead, and only thanks to a series of powerful blocks on Washio’s part do they start to claw their way back. But defence isn’t enough. Konoha knows that they need to start attacking—not only for the points, but to get morale going again. And when Bokuto gets under the receive, Konoha knows they have a chance, and he calls for it.

Running up to the net with his eyes on the ball, Konoha vaguely registers two blockers moving in. Akaashi gets under the ball, and sends it up right where Konoha likes it best. He bends and jumps, swings his arm back and then forwards, connects with the ball—

And like a wall rising before him, two sets of arms block his shot and slam the ball down. Konoha lands just after it hits the floor, palm stinging and brain frozen as _I got blocked, I got blocked by the girls **straight off the bat**_ rings through his head. Above him, Shirofuku blows one short blast and gestures to the girls' side.

And on the other side of the net, Suzumeda grins smugly as she high-fives her teammate.

The game goes from bad to worse.

Bokuto hasn’t entered dejected mode yet, but in an effort to prevent Weakness Number 37 from overtaking him, he’s been hitting his spikes in as alternating a fashion as he can. Thus, his movements are predictable; and thus, few of his hits score. And in his frustration, the girls start restricting his path. And he starts to hit multiple spike-misses.

Their most valuable asset at the moment (asides from Akaashi, who, despite being visibly freaked out by the girls’ tactics, has yet to let that translate into his actual playing) is Washio. He’s tall enough and has good enough timing that he can hit from above all the blockers, and even though the girls’ defence players are still getting in the receives, they’re not translating into decent sets. This odd shift in player focus is not wholly untoward: since their qualifying matches for Nationals, Washio’s been putting effort into his practices nearly rivalling Bokuto's.

"Gotta beat that Kuroo at Nationals," is all he’d said when Konoha queried the matter. The way he’s going, Konoha reckons he will.

But still: Washio is just one player, and off the court for effectively half the time. Their other weapons are going to have to get into gear soon, or else they aren’t going to stand a chance.

In the meantime, Konoha's main focus is on Suzumeda, who, despite allegedly never having "seriously" played before, is annoyingly clever at the game. Not nearly the most skilful one on the girls' side, but she reads the game well and keeps muttering to the others on the team; which, as it happens, is mostly followed by the boys’ usual surprise moves being anticipated. She and Minami-chan—the twin sister of Minami on the boys' team—have been following his every move and making it exceedingly difficult for him to sneak in anything the way he normally would.

Akaashi's having a tough time of it as well. Half the serves the girls send his way, and his mouth is getting tighter and tighter. Bump sets just don’t cut it for decent attack strategies, and Konoha can’t reach the ball to set it properly every time, and that's messing with their game play. Nothing they do rankles the girls.

This does not bode well for them.

After his third blocked spike, Konoha's fists clench at his sides as his face heats up. That had been a good toss, and he’d been positioned well, and then, frustration blinding him, he’d forgotten all about the blockers. "Damn it!"

"Oi, oi, don't sweat it!" Komi calls. "Get the next one!"

"It's only one spike," Saru says quietly as the girls' number six readies herself for the next serve.

"They— _she_ got my timing," Konoha says through gritted teeth. "Of _course_ she got my timing, she's been watching me do that for months!"

"Could be a fluke."

Konoha fixes Sarukui with a stare that by rights should have disintegrated his flesh. "Suzumeda's not playing for the girls so they can just _fluke_ it, Saru."

"I said it _could_ be," Sarukui says, and something sharpens in his demeanour. It's quite disconcerting, seeing a smile that placid framed by those eagle eyes. "And even so, who says we're going to give them any more chances to confirm it?"

Konoha turns to face the net, still on edge and yet smiling despite himself.

The serve flies over the net cleanly, and it's an easy receive for Komi. Akaashi sets it up for Konoha, whose path is forced right into the libero's arms—again, by Suzumeda. He scowls at her, and she smirks, and he finds it very difficult to keep his scowl in place. Wrenching himself away, he dives under a quick driven close to the net. He doesn't see who gets the second hit, but there's no mistaking who'll get the third.

"SEND IT LEFT!"

And, scrambling to his feet, Konoha is just in time to see Sarukui slam the ball hard and fast right into the back of the court. For the briefest of seconds, his high-stakes game face appears—eyes wide, mouth bared in a delighted, savage grin.

And then, with a quiet "Yes!" and the smallest of fist-pumps, the laid-back smile is back in place like it had never left.

Konoha can't help smirking back at Suzumeda, who narrows her eyes at him in kind. Everyone always underestimates Sarukui—even his teammates sometimes underestimate him—but there's absolutely a reason he's Fukurodani's other left side spiker. There's nothing quite as motivating as Bokuto in his best moods, but Saru getting competitive comes pretty close.

Slowly, laboriously, in sweat and growls and stinging hands, the points build up. The boys have strength and height (mostly) on their side, but the girls make far fewer mistakes and their strategies are an unknown, and in the end, they take the first set 25-21. It's a pretty shocking score, Konoha thinks, and the trouble is that they don't have a decent way to counteract the girls yet. Well, save sheer brute strength, but the girls are so clever that that clearly isn't going to work on its own.

Towelling off to the side, Onaga looks shaky. His blocking form was all over the place, and that's something that definitely need to change for the next set. Height-wise, Onaga is undeniably the most valuable asset their team has, and whatever pressure he's feeling from the girls, he needs to get past it, because _damn it_ , they need him to bring his A-game.

"Hey, Onaga!"

And, as usual, Bokuto is on the same wavelength when it comes to his teammates' wellbeing. Funny how that happens.

"You're looking real hot and bothered, somethin' the matter?"

Onaga's hands tighten on his towel. "Um... no? I..." He presses his lips together and lowers his head. "'S nothing."

"You're screwing up a lot," Bokuto says, and Konoha mentally slaps his forehead. (None of them actually hit themselves in exasperation anymore because Bokuto saying dumb things or blunt and uncomfortable truths is a daily occurrence, and Sarukui did some research into brain cells halfway through their first year. Apparently, they don’t grow back.) "It can't be nothing. And it can't be not important either!" he adds as Onaga opens his mouth again.

"If it’s about Suzumeda-chan, well…" Bokuto falters for a bit, and Akaashi starts as if to step in—but then Bokuto opens his mouth again, and it is the catalyst for the whole team to quieten down. "I mean, she’s only one opponent, right? We’ve gone up against way better opponents than her before! We’ve beaten Nekoma, we’ve beaten Shinzen—"

"Beating Shinzen’s not saying much," Minami-kun mutters darkly.

"—Hinata-kun from Karasuno—"

"Shrimpy with orange hair," Akaashi clarifies while Bokuto carries on with his spiel.

"—and even that ace from Miyagi, uh… what’s his name… that troublesome lefty guy—"

"Ushiwaka," is the near-unanimous response from the members. Their dour expressions are starting to brighten up again, taking on razor-honed sharpness from their captain’s solid words.

"Right! So, if we can beat all of them, why can’t we beat the girls’ team? We’re gonna be the best team in Japan when we win Nationals, but we can’t _really_ be the best if we don’t give it our all in this match."

For a moment, all the members of the team are silent in the wake of their captain’s words. Bokuto stands in front of them with his arms spread and a strangely serious smile on his face. For all his erraticism, his ridiculousness and loud mouth, Bokuto really has his moments, and in them, Konoha thinks: _Yeah. This is why he’s our captain._

"Hey, that was a good speech, captain!" Komi says, hands on hips and nodding approvingly. Then, with a teasing note of wonder, he adds, "Never knew you had it in you." Bokuto’s face screws up in comical rage.

"What do you mean by that?"

As Komi starts trying to talk his way out, egged on by the more boisterous second years, Konoha’s mind drifts and he steps away from the group.

Suzumeda’s good. Not for the first time, Konoha wonders why she gave up track, why she chose to be a manager when she runs in her spare time and clearly enjoys playing sports. He glances over to see her laughing with the girls’ team, and that tight feeling settles in his throat. Sure, she usually looks happy around their team, but… he can’t explain it.

Maybe it’s that that’s the kind of smile he wishes he could invoke from her.

But that’s a pipe dream, and he spends the last minute of the break with teeth gritted, trying his best to force it out of his head.

"Konoha-san," Akaashi says as they go to put their water bottles back in the holder. "Are you going to manage in this set? Kaori-san’s been tailing you. Well. Instigating them tailing you." He says it matter-of-factly, but his voice is strung tighter than his usual want; just barely, but after a year and a half of playing with him, Konoha has a decent read on how he emotes.

Akaashi’s actually concerned. This isn’t good.

"Just… let me figure it out," Konoha says. "I’ll get past her somehow."

Akaashi pauses for a moment and nods, briefly. "I’ll leave it up to you, then. Let me know if you need assistance."

For the rest of the team, the second set begins much more smoothly than the first. Now that they’re over the initial shock, Komi and Bokuto are starting to use their heads again, and Onaga’s blocks are finally bringing about the advantage they’re supposed to.

But it’s here that things really begin to unravel for Konoha. Normally in matches he's the factor that players don't notice: the reliable guy that doesn't stand out but doesn't let the ball drop. He gets away with a lot, and never has much attention on him.

Now, the girls are following him as closely as they are Bokuto. Every spike, every serve, they're engineered away from him. He can't be useful in the way he's supposed to be, and it's really starting to piss him off. More to the point, Suzumeda seems to have told them exactly how he likes to spike best from the right side, and he hasn't scored once in this set.

Suzumeda is still a major problem. She has his timing down to a T, and years of high jump do seem to be paying off for her, because the proportional height she's getting in her blocks is something Konoha can only dream of. She's so fast and agile that she's managed to duck out of receiving any balls directed at her, and unlike him, she's managed to get all her serves over the net.

He's always thought she looks attractive just standing in her tracksuit or her school uniform. Neither has an inch on this: confident, supple, flushed with exertion...

The heat that rises in his cheeks he can probably pass off as excess blood flow. Probably.

A timely distraction arrives in Bokuto’s first serve of the set. He bounces the ball twice where he normally does it once, and Konoha tenses in anticipation as the whistle blows and he hears Bokuto’s run-up. The serve just barely clears the net right over Konoha’s head, and falls to the court right in front of the three-metre line. Konoha lets out a squeak. (A very dignified, manly squeak.)

"Lucky, lucky!" Saru calls. "One more!"

"Oi! That serve was totally meant to do that!"

"Just take the next serve!" Washio says snappishly. To Konoha’s surprise, Bokuto does so without further protestation.

_Washio can’t be getting affected too,_ he thinks despairingly. But judging by Washio’s tense jaw, and the spots of colour on his cheeks…

Konoha really can’t decide if he wants to wipe that smug grin off of Suzumeda’s face or else give her something to properly smile about. It’s difficult, to be sure, especially because his mood’s swinging so much this match. From a mire of frustration he’ll rise to the heat of elation and he doesn’t know _why._

Drat that Suzumeda.

The score at 12-10, the boys’ team finally break the girls’ scoring streak; but before Konoha can move off the court to serve, Akaashi beckons him over. Konoha walks closer and spins the ball tight and fast in his hands. "Yeah?"

"I'm sure you've picked up on their strategy by now."

"Yeah." _Spin, spin._ "Target things so Bokuto can't spike and so I can't score."

"Essentially," Akaashi says, and Konoha steels himself at the gleam in Akaashi's eye. What is it with typically calm and unperturbed people and looking maniacal today?

"I guess you've got a plan to deal with it, then."

Akaashi nods—"Always our reliable setter, eh?"—and beckons him in closer.

Konoha doesn't bother with a jump serve—it could get them an extra point, but he's so frustrated with this game that he's more likely to smash it into the net, and that would not be ideal. The girls pick it up, dig, set and spike to the side of the block, right into Komi's arms. And now is the moment of truth.

Konoha runs forwards, jumps, and springs his fingers under the ball for a brief second before tossing in a high, high arc over to Bokuto. Not the spot Akaashi normally sets to, not as close but just as high, and the blockers don't have time to adjust before Bokuto brings it down—a ferocious, definitive cross that rebounds off the captain's arms and bounces out to the wall.

"YES!"

"GO GO BOKUTO!"

"NICE SPIKE!"

"Konoha-san," Akaashi says. Konoha looks to him, and Akaashi smiles. "Good toss."

And so the set goes on, rally after rally, point after point, both teams nearly neck-and-neck until the girls reach match point and the boys, fighting fire rekindled and not about to give up the game, smash past the blockers to score their twenty-second point.

But amidst the cheers and high-fives, Konoha notes their current rotation and groans internally. It's Bokuto's serve.

_As long as he doesn’t get too fired up,_ Konoha thinks. _As long as he keeps his cool…_

The girls look near manic in their concentration. Suzumeda, even though she’s in the front row, has her game face on: eyes narrowed, lips set, tongue poking out the side and oh shit, that’s really cute. Swallowing back the flutter leaping from his heart to his throat, Konoha lowers his eyes and turns to face side-on just so he doesn’t have to let this stupid stupid crush distract him when they’re this close to the end of the match—

Out of the corner of his eye, Bokuto runs up too fast, too thunderous—

And, in a sudden blur of blue and yellow, the ball smashes into the side of his head.

"HOLY CRAP!"

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, Bokuto and Akaashi have wearily agreed with the girls’ team co-captains on a time and place to pay for the promised dinner, the rest of the boys' team are cleaning up the gym as per the loser’s forfeit, and Konoha sits on a bench in the foyer of the gymnasium complex with an icepack pressed to his cheek. It’s far from the worst volleyball injury he’s had—this list includes and is mostly comprised of everything Bokuto’s accidentally inflicted upon him—but that much force behind one of the harder practice balls had really, really hurt. Bokuto had been very apologetic; but then, he might also have been apologising for adding injury to the insult of losing to the girls. Or apologising in advance for not covering any of the food costs himself, which has happened before.

Behind him, a door creaks, and Konoha glances over his shoulder. The girls have been coming out of their changing room in the last ten minutes or so, and he wonders if he’ll have to endure more jibes from his classmates or else another terrified look from a first-year—

But pulling the door of the locker room closed behind her is Suzumeda, in her tracksuit and with her back to him. An air of unhappiness hangs about her, in hunched shoulders and tightly-drawn lips, and it’s so weirdly _wrong_ given she’s won. Wasn’t that her intention? Konoha thinks about calling out to her. But in the next second she turns, and their eyes meet.

"Konoha-san," she says, and she clutches the edge of her sleeve

"Hey, Suzumeda," Konoha says, and smiles at her with eyebrow raised. "Have fun over on the dark side?"

Her eyes widen, and when she smirks back at him her shoulders loosen. "Not as much fun as you’ll having shouting me dinner on Friday night."

"Touché. You heading off now?"

"I…" Suzumeda falters. "I was actually gonna go look for you. Didn’t really get to see you after Bokuto… um…"

"Served into my face, you can say it." And she has a point—the girls’ manager and Shirofuku had whisked him away to get an ice pack and a once-over immediately the game was over, and he’s barely seen anyone from either team since then save Bokuto and Akaashi; the former tripping over his tongue with apologies and self-berating alike, the latter with an air of a man who has seen too much.

"Eh, I’m fine. You should watch out, though, I think you broke the hearts of like, all the first years."

Suzumeda flaps her hand dismissively. "They’ll recover."

"Shirofuku’s gonna be out for your blood, you do know that."

Suzumeda drops her bag on the floor and shrugs as she sits on the bench beside him. "Eh… I’ll buy her lunch tomorrow, she’ll forgive me."

Sitting there, some of the good humour sinks from Suzumeda’s face, and her gaze becomes uncomfortably fixed on the cheek Konoha’s holding the ice pack to.

"You're not mortally wounded, are you?"

"Nah. My mum'll probably start fretting that I got beat up or something on the way home, though..."

"It's... it's just a bruise?"

"...Yeah. Hey, why're you so worried? If that'd happened earlier you guys would've won by a landslide. Well... okay, you did win by a landslide, but a bigger one."

Suzumeda catches her lip between her teeth. Her brow is furrowed, and the smile slips from Konoha's face. He bumps their shoulders together gently. "Oya, what's up?"

"I didn't like seeing you get hurt." The words come out of Suzumeda's mouth in a rush, stilted and off-cadence; her gaze is fixed on the floor, and she looks almost as if she's about to be sick. Something crawls in Konoha's belly, but before he can even think of a way to respond to this strange pronouncement, Suzumeda starts talking again.

"I know it's sport and I know people can get injured and you've told me all your first year horror stories but it—I—I didn't know what to do because it was _you_ that got hurt." Suzumeda blinks very rapidly, and glances at him out the corner of her eye. "That probably sounds really stupid."

Konoha swallows. This isn't how he'd imagined any of their conversations would go, and he's not sure if he's scared or excited for what might come next. His fingers tighten around the ice pack.

"It's not really stupid to not want to see your teammates hurt," he says eventually. "And anyway, I had a terrible match, something had to go wrong at the end."

"I think this is the point where I’m supposed to disagree and say that you played well, but you kind of didn’t. No offense."

Konoha laughs. "Like you can talk, you guys were targeting me the whole game."

"Well, yes," Suzumeda concedes. "But you weren’t on form at all."

"Do you find that surprising?"

"Well, yeah, kind of. Aren’t you the meant to be the reliable one who covers everyone else’s gaps—"

" _Don’t. Say. It."_

"—Mr Jack-of-All—"

Konoha slaps his free hand over his face. "Ugh!"

Suzumeda sticks her tongue out at him, grinning, and for a moment it’s just like usual—the teasing, the ease, the _lightness_ of it all. None of the heavy stuff that’s pressing on his heart, clawing at his mouth, pulling to get out, to be heard.

It scares him; but what scares him the most is that he _wants_ her to hear it.

They lapse into comfortable silence, but Suzumeda keeps glancing up at the icepack, and her hands start to fidget with her sleeves again. Konoha fixes on this, and frowns.

"I really am okay," he says quietly, matter-of-factly, and to prove his point he shifts around on the bench and lowers the ice pack. "See?"

He watches as Suzumeda’s eyes lock onto his face, dark and uncertain. He waits as she leans in, presses her fingers soft against his skin.

He freezes when her hand slides to cup his face and she strokes her thumb along his cheekbone.

No less tender, no less concerned. But this is not what a manager does to a teammate. Nor a friend to a friend. Suzumeda locks eyes with him, and he can’t mistake her meaning. Under her freckles, she’s flushed and tensed, and there’s an eyelash on her cheek.

Slowly, deliberately, he lifts his hand to brush it away.

"Do you—"

"Yeah," Konoha says. His throat feels clogged up, but he can’t bring himself to swallow.

"So," Suzumeda says, "you… do you like me back?"

Konoha nods, and waits for her reaction.

Suzumeda blows out her cheeks and lets her hand drop. "That’s good. Would’ve been kinda frustrating trying to get you to notice me that whole match if you’d said no just now."

Konoha comes back to Earth with a thud and stares open-mouthed at Suzumeda. " _That’s_ what you being on the girls’ team was all about?"

"Well, technically it was about me showing you that I pay a lot of attention to you and getting you to question why, but yeah."

"You’re unbelievable," Konoha says, and the wonder he feels slips out of his mouth in near-musicality. "So the whole reason I’ve been screwing up so bad at practice is because you like me back?"

Suzumeda smiles. Not quite her usual cheeky grin, not a smirk at someone else's expense—but something wide and lopsided and bright and it makes Konoha's heart melt.

"Yeah. I guess so."

Konoha sets the ice pack behind him on the bench—there are more important things at hand than whether or not his face will be purple tomorrow—and entwines his fingers with Suzumeda’s. She squeezes their hands together: hot on cold, scabbed knuckles and calloused palms, two firm grips.

Konoha leans in, pauses—Suzumeda breathes a "kiss me already, Konoha-san" and brings her face close to his—

And grinning, he lifts his other hand to rest in her hair, and lowers his lips to hers.


End file.
